Review Summary: The diamond is polished to a violent gleam.
Suffocative and bleak - these are not adjectives often ascribed to pop music. They are characteristics of Lana Del Rey's latest musical effort; on Ultraviolence she cranks up the distress as she simultaneously pares back some of the excess we have come to associate with her. The record hums with a thick, full sound, but drops the "anything goes" approach of her debut.
Forget the often ludicrous lyrics (see the title track for some examples) or the irrelevant bleating about inauthenticity, anti-feminism, etc. Ultraviolence is a full length vindication - less gimmicky hip hop, more texture to the style, and a cohesive system with its own character. A valid sticking point with this album might be that the themes are old hat, and that most of the songs seem like they surfaced out of the same rich older man's Jacuzzi. I still maintain there is no mainstream artist out there who is making this particular brand of retro "cool" again - Lana Del Rey is a singular phenomenon. If David Bowie can dress up like an alien and become a cultural icon or Quentin Tarantino can get Oscar nominations for Django Unchained, why should Lana Del Rey feel the need to justify her artificial theatrics? Wherever this music is coming from, I feel something when I hear it.
It is a little sad that no song here manages to achieve the instant classic feel of Video Games, Born to Die or Ride. Brooklyn Baby is the closest - it's a kaleidoscopic satire in which we cannot tell who ends up holding the outsider status. Punctuated by delicate guitar pronking, we can hear a low, growling drone in the background while Lana coyly reels off the verse. A rare lighter moment amidst all the gloom, it was a natural choice for a single. The album becomes a challenging listen by the time Sad Girl rolls around. The four songs that inhabit this part of the record almost seem to be variations of each other - musically they seem to have the same slow burning DNA, and the characters swirl around - the vicious Money Power Glory becomes the similar ***ed My way Up To The Top, but with a bit more vulnerability. The weaker Sad Girl becomes the more accusatory Pretty When You Cry. Often the only release from dreamy ambience is a bonfire guitar solo or faintly fascist chorus.
West Coast is probably the most interesting departure from her signature sound. Most people highlight the Stevie Nicks feel, but Tori Amos emerges as a stronger influence for me (as on the Paradise EP) - the higher pre-chorus that builds the desperation of the song before the narcotic, woozy breakdown. As interesting as the shifts are, I almost wish she'd keep the driving soft rock feel of the song - I find the verse and pre-chorus intriguing. However, as an exploration of love and ambition, it works. One finds the album carries a more varied palette of guitar work - lean riffs and bloody guitar solos that still sound detached. This technique almost captures the feel of a movie when the main story is playing out, interspersed with a montage that spells out the consequences for the characters.
To me, Lana Del Rey is most fascinating artist in the mainstream - willing to play a part to live her fantasy and blessed with an unmistakeable voice. You can feel the hunger pulsating in every languid note. If her detractors were perfectly honest, they'd have to admit Ultraviolence isn't very pop at all. As stylised as her vision is, it's still one of the ugliest ones about - is she glamorising the societal grinding stone that women have to endure, or is she in some small way telling it like it is? Is it any less effective to highlight the horrors of complicity versus some sort of idealised hollow defiance? Ultraviolence manages to put aside many childish things, and allows all the ambiguity and atmosphere to make a more bruising impact.
